What's biting you?
by Quiet Time
Summary: Something is feasting on the pretty young men of Cardiff. On Halloween of course, when else? Rated T because Jack's like that, especially around Ianto. *Disclaimer: Characters and concepts are owned by the BBC/Starz*
1. Chapter 1

_Halloween fic. A bit late I know, apologies. Hope you enjoy._

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><p>"There's not really any such thing as vampires, is there?"<p>

Jack looked up from the pile of paperwork Ianto had bribed him into doing with a series of intriguing Trick or Treat ideas as a reward for completion. At times, that young man had no morals whatsoever, a fact for which Jack was often quite profoundly grateful.

Gwen was, as usual, at the front of his desk, poised for flight, or more likely action. Ianto always sat _on _the desk, poised for quite a different sort of action. Tosh tended to hover in the doorway, while Owen generally yelled from outside. It made Jack wonder why he had a visitors' chair at all.

Gwen tapped a foot impatiently. Jack smiled and focused on her question.

"Not vampires as such," he answered, after a run-through of his mental alien index. Plasmavores are pretty close. They don't have fangs, though. The last one I met used a straw."

Gwen's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Jack returned her gaze levelly. Gwen concluded he was serious, but she couldn't help laughing. "A straw? That's ridiculous."

"True though," Jack insisted. "It nearly killed me. Actually," he paused for thought. "Yeah, actually I think it did kill me, maybe twice." But he was smiling too.

"But a _straw,_" Gwen spluttered_._ "How undignified."

"Bit embarrassing, I have to admit," Jack conceded. He leaned forward. "But why are you asking about vampires, Gwen? Am I too optimistic hoping it's something to do with a Halloween costume?"

Gwen shook her head, all traces of humor gone. "Andy emailed me this," she said, offering Jack a printout. "The victim was found in an alley. Nearly bled out, but no blood found at the site."

Jack shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time someone's moved a body," he said dismissively, neglecting to extend a hand towards the page Gwen was trying to give him. He didn't want another emergency, damnit. He and Ianto had plans for tonight. Tricks and Treats. Jack had never celebrated Halloween before, and he was looking forward to it. Especially Ianto's interpretation, which was bound to be creative. And he said _Jack_ was innovative…

"It wasn't a body," Gwen insisted. "The victim's still alive. He was found in time to save him. The photo was taken in the hospital." She proffered the page again, and this time Jack took it, hoping he'd be able to point out how very mundane the crime was so his night could proceed as planned.

The slim hope crumbled as he looked at the detailed image. Not a blunt force trauma, not a stab wound. Two neat, perfectly round marks on an otherwise unblemished neck. No bruising. Figured. Bloodsuckers always injected anticoagulants.

"Two puncture marks," Jack agreed, frowning. "Two straws, maybe?" He shook his head. "Nah. Plasmavores don't share. And they drain their victim totally. He shouldn't have survived."

"But he did," Gwen answered stubbornly. Jack mentally kissed his quiet evening goodbye as fire kindled behind her eyes. "We have to do something, Jack, because the next victim probably won't be that lucky."

Jack drew in a deep breath. This was what they did, after all. And maybe they could still sort it out before the day ended. "Owen!" he bellowed.

The team hung not-quite-subtly around Owen's desk as he traded jargon with someone from the hospital.

"That was the A and E resident," Owen announced to the ring of expectant ears. "There have been nine so far. Started last night. All around the same age, all male. No obvious wounds other than the punctures."

Jack's brow creased. It might be a result of his yearning for a quiet night, but it didn't strike him as particularly extraterrestrial.

Tosh saved him from voicing his suspicion. "How sure are we that this is alien in origin?" she asked. "I mean, isn't it possible this is some new way of injecting drugs gone wrong?"

Owen blinked at her. Jack concealed a smile. Maybe Tosh had plans tonight as well. He hoped so. The medic could use a shakeup.

"And the supplier moved the victims after?" Gwen suggested. "It'd explain the lack of blood at the scene, wouldn't it?" Her brow creased. "Maybe I should talk to Andy a bit more."

"Go see him," Jack ordered. "You'll get more that way, and it'll save us hacking into the reports from the scene."

"I'll go check out the victims for myself," Owen offered, before Jack had the chance to order him. "Maybe you ought to come with me, Tosh. See if there's any Rift residue about."

Tosh didn't smile too broadly. Jack approved. She was learning subtlety.

-XXX-

"You seemed fairly certain this wasn't a Plasmavore," Ianto said, his voice echoing in the silence left by the departure of the rest of the team.

Jack nodded. They'd be gone for at least an hour, he thought, with a stirring of hope, amongst other things.

"So I suppose I ought to dredge the archives for anything similar," Ianto decided, biting his lip against a smile at the pout that followed.

Jack sighed. "I'm sorry about tonight, Ianto," he said, throwing the puppy eyes behind the force of the pout.

"I'd been planning to cook steaks this evening," Ianto said, with a hint of reproof. The smile broke free. "I suppose I'll be sharpening them instead?"

It took Jack a beat or two before he put it together, but he doubted that made much difference. Ianto could probably hear his laughter at the disgraceful pun from the archives anyway. Relieved, and reprieved, Jack turned back to his office. Might as well get that paperwork finished, just in case he had the opportunity to claim his reward after all. There was still the chance this was all a false alarm.

Then again, there might be a vampire loose in Cardiff. On Halloween. When else?

-XXX-

"Venom on the puncture wounds," Owen announced, before he'd even settled properly into his seat. Ianto quietly placed Owen's mug in front of him, and the level of tension in the boardroom ratcheted up a notch when Owen ignored the mug in favor of continuing his report. "Or at least, one of them. Clever technique, the double puncture. Never had a chance to examine it before. Venom flows down one and blood flows back up the other. Continuous feed."

"Lovely," Ianto answered dryly. "If you like monsters."

"Which we do, of course," Jack put in, with forced cheerfulness.

Gwen took up the thread. "Andy let me read the police reports," she said. "There was no sign of a struggle, any of them. Why didn't they run? Or fight?"

"It _is _Halloween," Tosh put in thoughtfully. "You might not run from someone in a vampire costume just now."

Gwen consulted her notes again. "All nine were found in the club district. So I suppose there'd be theme nights. No one would look too hard at someone in costume."

"Quite in vogue at the moment, vampires are," Ianto added. "For which we can thank _Twilight_, I suppose."

"And you might even let one near your neck," Jack concluded. "But once it drew blood…..Was there anything in the venom that might have induced paralysis, Owen?"

Owen shook his head. "It's mostly anticoagulant. Stops the blood clotting during the attack. And after, I suppose."

Gwen leaned back in her chair and passed a hand over her forehead. "For once we can be grateful it was a busy area."

"Ambulance reports noted emergency blood transfusions," Owen agreed. "So yeah, being found quickly probably made the difference."

Tosh shuddered. "If they'd been in some back street somewhere…."

Grim looks flittered around the room. They doubted the victims considered themselves lucky, but they were. No one wanted to consider how many others _might_ be lying in a back street somewhere. Or in a park. Or...

"No Rift residue," Tosh put in, after a pause. "Not anywhere on the victim, and no traces in the venom or blood samples either. So if it did come through the Rift, it's been here long enough to shed any trace."

"But nothing similar before this?" Jack demanded.

"Nothing in the Archives," Ianto confirmed. "But I did a search, on a hunch I admit, based on the way we all reacted this morning. There was a glut of overdoses reported around this time last year. And it _was_ residential back alleys, that time."

The team fell silent as they contemplated the possibility of a bloodsucking alien at loose in Cardiff, of families already distraught at their loss further devastated by news of their sons' supposed addictions. Sons, boyfriends, fathers, lost and tainted.

Jack swung his eyes across the room, seeing the resolution settle on each face, feeling it within himself. None of them wanted this, but none of them would ignore it either, not this time, at whatever cost to themselves.

Jack stretched. "Looks like we're going clubbing tonight," he announced. "Lure it out, if we can." His eyes flitted amongst the team. "Who wants to be vampire bait?" The words were hardly out of his mouth when something clenched in his gut, and squeezed.

Tosh burrowed through the collected notes on the table before her. "All men," she announced.

Gwen smiled faintly.

"And all young," Tosh continued. "Under thirty."

Owen grinned. "Lets you out, too, Harkness."

Jack couldn't find it in him to return the expected smile.

"Well dressed," Tosh added, oblivious to the mounting tension. "But they would be, if they're planning on impressing someone in the club."

Jack's eyes moved as if magnetized to the young man on the other side of the table. Young, definitely male, dressed in that black three piece with the red shirt beneath it.

"Attractive too, from the ID photos." Tosh concluded. "Though I suppose that might be a coincidence." Struck by the lack of response, she looked up, wondered what her team mates were staring at, and followed their gazes to Ianto, who certainly ticked all the boxes in a vampire's most wanted list. "Oh."

"Get your glad rags on, Teaboy," Owen announced.

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><p><em>The rest is basically complete, apart from fiendish editing. Will post as I fix. Assuming anyone reads this first bit, of course!<em>


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for the amazing response to the first chapter. Hope I live up to your expectations!  
><strong>**Thank you especially to everyone who reviewed, (particularly those two lovely people with PM disabled who I couldn't thank personally)**

**Here's the next installment, as promised. Apologies in advance for the evil cliffie.**

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><p>"I'm not going to let you out of my sight for a second," Jack vowed. He could feel the tension in the arm threaded through his own and was pulling out all stops to relieve it. "Which will hardly be a trial, given the way you look. Why have I never gotten you into a dinner suit before? Or out of one."<p>

Humor worked where reassurance hadn't.

"If _one more person_ says I look edible," Ianto growled, eliciting a giggle from the comms.

"But you _do_," Jack insisted. He hadn't known Ianto even owned a dinner suit. It was, Ianto had informed him, the one he'd worn as groomsman at his sister's wedding. That simple statement contained the most information about Ianto's family Jack had gleaned thus far, which showed how nervous the young man was beneath the unruffled exterior. Ianto had then gone on to say that the suit was quite the wrong cut to be fashionable now, and as such it would grieve him the least if it was irrevocably bloodstained.

Jack hadn't appreciated the gallows humor. He still didn't. What sort of man was he, to be dragging his….his date, they were supposed to be on a date tonight, weren't they…..out vampire-hunting?

Jack looked down at the man on his arm; throat dry from something closer to fear than desire. Ianto could pass as a vampire himself tonight, which was probably the point of the outfit. The stark black and white of the suit contrasted perfectly with rosy lips and pale skin. Too pale, perhaps. Jack dipped his head until his lips brushed Ianto's ear. "No one's gonna eat you tonight, Ianto Jones," he murmured. "Well, except me, maybe."

And suddenly Ianto's cheeks weren't pale anymore. An improvement.

Ianto ran a finger beneath the starched collar. The neat bow tie bobbed as he swallowed.

"This is too tight," he grumbled. Jack grinned.

"Don't take it off," Tosh warned via the comm. "There's a tracker inside the bow."

There was a tracker in his pocket too, which he was supposedly attaching to the vampire, or whatever the hell it was. Before it drank him dry, preferably.

Ianto rubbed his eyes next. He'd always had good eyesight, never needed glasses, even for reading. The contact lenses felt strange, though Tosh had patiently assured him he'd get used to them.

"Don't dislodge _them_ either," Tosh scolded, silently, via text across the lenses. Tosh wasn't in the best of moods, either, having been left back at the Hub where she could throw the entire power of mainframe into their various surveillance systems. She might, Ianto thought fondly, still be sulking.

"I'm in position," Gwen announced. "The roof was a good idea, Jack."

"Naturally," Jack replied. "It was one of mine."

The lenses even made the eye-roll feel strange. Ianto stifled a sigh. He didn't know whether he was more uncomfortable at the prospect of becoming a vampire tidbit, or being the focus of so much attention. He had Jack on his arm, Tosh in his eyes, Gwen hovering above and Owen lurking, ready to provide emergency procedures Ianto devoutly hoped he wouldn't need.

"I'm good too, if anyone cares," Owen announced. _He_ wasn't with them, either. Owen was content to remain in the back of the SUV, presiding over a chilled container. He might have waved Ianto off to the sacrificial altar with a snipe and a sneer, but he was taking no chances. Teaboy wasn't dying on _his_ watch, thank you very much. There was enough of Ianto's blood type on hand to resupply his entire body. And then some. Anticoagulants could be tricky.

Jack smiled an unconvincing smile. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Ianto's throat jerked. "We should probably split up though."

"Not likely." Jack's arm tightened around his own. "You're tempting enough as it is without leaving you unprotected."

"I'm supposed to be bait," Ianto countered. "It's hardly going to go to come after me if I've got a bodyguard. It'll just go after easier prey."

"He has a point, Jack," Gwen urged, via the comms. "All the victims were out alone. And I'll still be within earshot if you yell, Ianto."

"Assuming I _can _yell," Ianto answered dryly.

Jack showed no sign of releasing his grip on Ianto's arm. Obviously hadn't got the hang of gallows humor yet.

"It makes sense for whatever it is to hone in on targets with no one to protect them," Tosh added. "I'll be watching as well. _And_ tracking."

Jack sighed. He was probably overreacting. Surely it was a good sign that he others didn't seem as worried as he was? "All right," he conceded, with poorly concealed reluctance. "I'll back off. Is everyone happy now?"

Ianto rubbed his elbow after Jack released it. He'd been holding on too hard.

"But don't go too far, will you, Jack?" Tosh continued hurriedly, the concern in her voice traveling easily across the airwaves from the Hub. "As Ianto said, he might not be _able _to scream. No one heard anything when the others were taken."

"Course not," Jack assured her. Maybe he wasn't overreacting after all.

"Not helping, Tosh," Owen put in.

Jack ignored him, frowning down at Ianto instead. "You're armed, right?" he checked.

Ianto sighed. The delay wasn't helping his nerves, not one bit. "Stun gun in my waistband," he confirmed. "Tracker in my tie, Camera behind my eyelids. Any more wired and I'd be…." He broke off, almost choked off. Too soon for Cyberman jokes. Always too soon.

Jack leaned forward and pressed his lips against Ianto's hair, finding himself inexplicably steadied by the mundane scent of shampoo. "Not letting you out of my sight," he repeated in a whisper.

Ianto pulled away, gently, indulging his own reluctance, then gave Jack a tiny push. "Go on, then," he urged. "Anyone'd think I can't fend for myself." Of course, maybe that was what they _did _think.

Jack turned back after only a few steps, suddenly noting the absence of Ianto's earpiece.

"Where's your comm.?" he demanded.

Ianto raised an eyebrow and patted his pocket.

"Put it on," Jack growled.

Ianto hesitated. Jack began to stalk back towards him.

"He can't draw attention by wearing it," Tosh broke in, somewhat impatiently. "There's a microphone concealed in the bow tie along with the tracker. If you make him wear the comm. as well, it'll create too much interference."

"Oh," Jack said, deflated. He hadn't realised he wouldn't be able to exchange reassurances with Ianto if he needed to. It was disquieting, all the more so as he suspected he was being overprotective, doting even, and was fairly certain the rest of the team found it amusing. Stuff the lot of them. Gwen would be far worse if this was Rhys.

And _that _particular thought had Jack grasping frantically for his professionalism.

"All right then, we'll need comm. silence," he ordered. "If Ianto squeaks, I want us all to hear it."

"Squeaks?" Ianto demanded. "Did you say _squeak?_"

"Didn't I just order comm. silence?" Jack retorted.

"Comm silence beginning now," Tosh said pertly.

Ianto amused himself by counting the number of times Jack looked back at him before finally vanishing around a corner. It was kind of nice; he had to admit, having Jack so concerned. If alarming.

And then Jack was out of sight, and the comms were silent. There were people all around him, well-dressed, fancy-dressed, some of them. Chatting, laughing. Having fun.

Ianto couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so alone.

Text slid across Ianto's eye-line. _I'll be with you every second, even though you can't hear me, OK?_

Ianto nodded, knowing the movement would register on Tosh's monitor. It was flattering having the whole team worrying about him, however unnecessary. Unless they really did think he was incompetent to defend himself.

Ianto sighed. He was his own worst enemy, sometimes. Now, how to be bait? He couldn't just stand here all night. That would only raise suspicions in the black t-shirted security staff manning the club entrances. The attacks would have all of them on alert, too, and he didn't want to find himself being escorted out of the precinct.

On the other hand, he didn't want to stray out of sight of his invisible minders, either.

Ianto eventually picked a nearby club, brightly lit, with a fairly constant queue in the front, and a few disgruntled rejects stalking away from the front of the line. Busy, popular, elite even. No one would notice him mingling with the crowd near the entrance, as long as he didn't loiter. No one without a reason to notice, at least.

Ianto circled the block, pausing at his chosen venue on each circuit. It kept him visible, within his designated area and hopefully left the security staff with the impression that he was meeting someone – or that he'd been stood up. Either impression would work for the hunter he was supposed to attract, too.

It would have been comforting if he'd gotten a glimpse of Gwen or Jack as he paced. But of course they were both too professional to be seen. They hadn't slipped off into a doorway for a quick snog, whatever Ianto's insecurities continued to suggest. No, they wouldn't do that. Either of them. Well, not during a mission, at least.

Tosh sent the occasional bracing text across the contacts, but there were only so many ways of saying 'Still nothing happening' and she wouldn't risk distracting him with anything more detailed.

After four circuits Ianto was simply bored, which was dangerous in that it might make him inattentive. He'd even welcome Owen's insulting comm. chatter at this point. As he paused after his fifth lap, the left-side security guard gave him a comforting smile. Great, even strangers thought he was a pathetic loser.

Nothing continued to happen until Ianto caught the toe of his shoe – a pointy-toed monstrosity of a bygone decade which Jack had seized on and Ianto conceded he wouldn't mind ruining - on a crack in the path well away from the illumination of the club entrance. He stumbled and fell, ending up sprawled inelegantly in the gutter. Good thing he wasn't fussed about spoiling this suit, either.

"May I help you?" A chill ran from Ianto's neck right down to the base of his spine. The voice was silky, with the not-quite-right quality he'd come to associate with an alien speaking English. Even Jack had that inflection, sometimes, when he was lost in memories. A thin pale hand reached down towards Ianto, a courtly offer of assistance that made his scalp prickle. Ianto dipped a hand into his pocket, lodged the tracking device between the web of his fingers, then gritted his teeth and forced himself to take the stranger's hand in his own. Cool, hard, dry skin. If it _was _skin.

"Thank you." Ianto said politely, over the pulsing in his ears. He looked up into a picture perfect Gothic vampire face. _Edward, eat your heart out._ Handsome to the point of beauty. Unnaturally pale skin, but however hard he looked Ianto couldn't detect the least sign of make up. Ruby red lips with delicate fangs protruding from amongst the smiling white teeth. Perfectly in character. What self-respecting vampire would omit the fangs? Dark hair tied at the neck. Immaculate evening dress, fitting its body like a second skin. Or not. No cloak, though.

The collected learning of Torchwood stated that shape-changers didn't wear clothes, they _grew_ them. Ianto finally understood what that meant. No tailor produced that sort of fit, not if the person wearing it wanted the ability to bend their limbs. And there was absolutely no empty space between the cuff of the – thing's – jacket and its hand, which was going to make applying the tracker damnably difficult. Cloth fused to the skin, perhaps. Or cloth that _was_ skin. Or skin _imitating_ cloth.

Ianto's own skin began to crawl, seeking a safer body to attach itself to. _This is it. _Ianto thought, as he exchanged meaningless pleasantries, including pointed comments on the accuracy of the costume which he hoped were enough to alert the team. _Hope you're listening, Torchwood._ It would be beyond horrible it they'd gotten bored and ducked out for a coffee or something. They wouldn't, Ianto assured himself firmly. Of course they wouldn't. And it was, Ianto cautioned himself, still a touch early for the screaming. The man… err …thing…. err ….male thing hadn't done anything worse than offer him a hand up, after all.

"A nasty fall," his gallant rescuer/assailant continued, helping Ianto to his feet. It had a strong grip, with just a little bit too much pressure, fingers tight around his wrist. Enough to make him feel uneasy, even if he hadn't known what was happening. The hunt beginning, no doubt. Ianto wondered if it fed off its victims' fear as much as their blood, then wished he hadn't as his stomach roiled. He marshaled his remaining wits and concentrated on the task instead. The tracker slid out from between his fingers and Ianto felt it _sink_ into the palm pressing against his - and hoped he wasn't going to be sick.

The creature flinched, eyes widening as it stared intently at their joined hands.

"Ah, sorry," Ianto said hastily. "Did my cufflink catch you? The edge got scuffed. I've been meaning to take it to the jeweler. Didn't realize it was that sharp. So sorry."

_Clever, _Tosh approved. Ianto's gut settled back into place. He _wasn't_ alone.

The ruby lips bent into a tight smile. Had the other victims actually found that reassuring?

"I will escort you into the club," it announced. "You should rest after your fall."

Ianto forced a vacuous smile onto his face and allowed it to lead him, wondering if he ought to fake a limp. The weaker he seemed, the less careful it would be. He settled for leaning heavily against the offered arm, stomach roiling afresh at the chill seeping through his sleeve, mind boggling at the way its clothing _didn't _flutter in the breeze.

Ianto had to admire its strategy, though, on a level far removed from his thumping heart and sweating skin. Pick someone alone and hopeful. Someone denied entrance from the club, someone abandoned by a date. Someone with dreams to fill. Offer them not only that beautiful face and perfectly shaped body, but entrée to the elite club as well. The perfect lure. And the hopeful rejects might just make the perfect prey, too. No-one waiting for them. No one meeting them. No one to look for them, at least not in a hurry.

"Side entrance, for VIPs," the creature continued, tugging Ianto into an alleyway at the side of the building. And it kept tugging, harder, because now they could see the door, which was indeed the side entrance, flanked by dustbins on either side and tightly locked. Just what a VIP would expect. Not. And as Ianto tried to free his hand, as his other groped for the stun gun concealed beneath his impractical clothing, the creature began to transform without even releasing its grip on his wrist.

Ianto thought he screamed then, the requisite scream that would bring the team running, but he couldn't tell if any sound escaped his dry throat. Text flashed before his eyes, but he couldn't focus on the words, not with what was happening right in front of him.

Grotesque and totally fascinating. Stretching, shifting, changing from a creature of fantasy to a thing of nightmare. With a bizarre economy of effort, because it only changed the parts needed to attack. Hands turned into claws, one still fastened on Ianto's wrist, the other closing around the other hand as it scrabbled for the stun gun lodged in his waistband. Too firmly lodged to loosen in response to the desperate fumbling of suddenly nerveless fingers.

Both hands – claws - wrapped around his, pulling him closer, drawing him into an unholy embrace. The head bulged forth from a mockery of starched collar, color rotting from chalk white to bilious green, topped by faceted insect eyes reflecting his own face back at him. An unintended cruelty, perhaps, making him see himself contorted with fear.

Ianto struggled afresh as two long, rigid, needle-like protrusions emerged from where the ruby mouth had been, where a mouth _should_ be.

He couldn't get away. He couldn't reach his stun gun. He couldn't even scream. He really was incompetent.

And he was being attacked by a giant bloody mosquito in an impeccable suit. The sheer absurdity made it worse, somehow. Insult added to injury.

The sense of injustice unfroze Ianto's vocal cords, just for a moment, a precious moment during which he had the tiny victory of forcing a sound from his throat. A cry for help, but not a scream of fear, not really. "Jack!"

The thing shook him. His head snapped back, and its eyes caught his. Caught, trapped, and held, and Ianto knew, now, when it might be too late to tell anyone else, why none of the victims had been able to provide a description of their attacker. Those facetted eyes whirred, compelling him to look, then dulling his vision, blurring his mind. _Hypnosis _he tried to say, so the microphone would pick that up, at least, but his throat was locked again. Ianto struggled to close his eyes, to break the gaze, but he couldn't. Just couldn't. Tried to struggle, to fight, but his muscles wouldn't obey.

They'd heard, Ianto thought fuzzily, because there was text scrolling before his eyes again, superimposed over whirling, opalescent eyes which might have been beautiful if they weren't so deadly.

_We're coming. Hold on. We're coming._

The message repeated, over and over, in capitals now. Tosh must know his vision was blurring. Clever Tosh.

They were coming. Of course they were. Too late for him, perhaps. He couldn't possibly hold the thing off long enough for the others to get here. It was too strong and he was too weak. But at least they'd catch it while it was busy with him, stop it from hurting anyone else. That was something. Better than nothing. Better than all his friends at Canary Wharf.

Something touched his neck. Something colder than Jack's lips, sharper then Jack's teeth. Something that hurt. And he still couldn't scream.

Ianto's last memory was of pain turning to a numbness worse than pain, but his last conscious thought was of Jack. _Guess he'd been right to worry_. _Hope he doesn't blame himself._

_Hope he gives a damn._

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><p><strong>More soon, really. When it's safe to come out from under the desk.<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

_**Thank you** again for the lovely response to my first stab at horror (yeah sorry couldn't resist). Another cliff approaches, not quite so high. _  
><em>(Warning: Swearing in this chapter.<br>Warning to Twilight fans: Mild Cullen-snipe.)_

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><p>It <em>was <em>true, what they said about your life flashing before your eyes. The indecipherable green text was unexpected, though. Apparently past life flashes came with subtitles.

But Ianto remembered _this_, the metallic sting against his neck, the warm trickle of blood along his skin, the roaring in his ears that echoed all the way through to his bones. Couldn't have been his first kiss or something, could it? No, Ianto Jones doesn't get the good bits; he gets to do the cannibals again.

Though admittedly, the roaring was quite like that tractor, or no, it was Jack roaring, how about that? So at least it was the rescue part he was reliving. He could even smell the faint hint of Gwen's perfume from behind him, holding him as she had that day, while Jack slew the monsters. Disabled them, at least.

And then he was awake, really awake, sprawled in an alley in a blood-stained dinner suit, and Jack _was_ there, as Ianto assured himself he'd always known he _would_ be, breaking the creature's hold on his wrists and shoving him away. "Run," Jack yelled, not that he needed to, because Ianto was already pushing his shaking legs as hard as he could.

Jack didn't follow, obviously intent on distracting the thing so Ianto could get clear, but it flitted right past the tall man bellowing defiance, intent on the prey it had already marked out. Jack yelled again, a panicked order Ianto couldn't decipher, and then sprang in front of the creature once more, eyes blazing and legs braced. He looked fantastic, Ianto thought admiringly, his brain taking off on a tangent with an ease that only proved his mind was still scrambled. The fresh rush of adrenaline was handy, however, firming his legs from overcooked pasta to aldente.

Ianto got around a corner, to the laneway at the back of the club, lamentably free of the requisite gang of toughs having a smoke, before he had to pause for breath. Somewhere around here was one of the hidey holes he'd identified earlier, to fill the boring waiting time which was now proving productive after all. Two rubbish skips, side by side but with one not pushed back properly, leaving a gap between it and the wall which would shield him on three sides. Ianto crammed himself in, right into the sheltered corner, and strained his ears. Over the shuddering of his breath, he could hear the rustle of the creature. Still hunting. Hunting him. Made sense. Injured prey was the easiest to track down.

He wasn't going to think about what it might have done to Jack. Jack would be fine. He would.

There was a crash and a rattle from the alley. Ianto tensed, waiting.

Someone thumped to the ground nearby. Too near. The something blocked the light and it was a bit late to realize that a good bolt hole needs more than one exit. The shape moved, closer, a shadowy tendril reaching towards him. Ianto tried to wriggle backwards, but there was no room. He hoped he wasn't whimpering.

A hand closed over his mouth, and Ianto nearly bit into it before catching the scent of perfume again and realising it belonged to Gwen, after which he came damned close to sobbing into it. He wasn't sure who started the hug, but he wouldn't be the one who broke it. They crouched silently, arms around whatever bit they could reach. Gwen murmured something in his ear, something that sounded worried, after which she tugged the handkerchief free from his breast pocket and pressed it hard against his neck.

Ianto's mind began to grope its way towards coherent thought. That damp feeling on his neck was blood. He was still bleeding, then, and Gwen had put the hanky over it to staunch the flow. Ironic that the pressed square of linen was the only piece of the outfit he'd intended to use again. It appeared to be helping, though, given that his thought processes seemed to be coming back on-line, but Gwen couldn't sit there all night holding his neck shut.

Ianto reached up with a hand still annoyingly unsteady, and tugged the annoying bow tie from under his collar so Gwen could use it to fasten the wad of cloth in place. Gwen smiled down at him, and there followed a silent flurry of activity during which the bothersome contact lenses were removed and his Bluetooth, miraculously undamaged, hooked back into place. Familiar voices clamored blessedly in his ears, delivering a comforting if premature sense of safety.

"Took your time, Cooper," Owen snarked. "He was meant to be bait, not a snack."

Tosh failed to squash Owen, which meant she agreed.

"I was on the roof," Gwen hissed back. "I saw him trip but how was I to know it was the alien helping him up?" She looked down at Ianto, eyes shouting a silent apology at odds with her words. He smiled weakly in understanding. You couldn't admit things like that to Owen. "And when I got to him he ran away," Gwen continued. "I had to go back over the roof to find him again."

Ianto blinked. Maybe he hadn't imagined that first sniff of perfume. She'd been there, too. All along. He squeezed Gwen's hand and somehow they were hugging again.

A shadow passed, stopped, and then Jack slid in beside them, elbowing Gwen aside and wrapping Ianto in his own embrace. Ianto saw Gwen smile before she turned deliberately to the entrance of their hiding spot, giving them the illusion of privacy while Jack did that energy transfer thing. 'Cause it was a ridiculous time to be snogging.

A sudden, raucous rattle made them break apart. Jack drew back with a grin on his face, one arm still firmly around Ianto's shoulders.

"I slowed it down a bit," he whispered. As if summoned, a dustbin rolled past, spilling out its contents as it went and coming to rest against the wall ahead. "Tripped it over," Jack elaborated smugly. "The old 'roll a bin at it' strategy." Outside, metal continued to rattle.

"I'd say, several bins," Gwen noted.

"Not elegant, but effective," Jack replied, with a justified amount of smugness. "Let's move before it catches up. We should have a few minutes while it untangles itself."

With Ianto supported between them, against unconvincing protests, they got around to the next side of the building, another dingy alley, opening back into the street, where Ianto directed them to a jumble of cardboard boxes haphazardly stacked until recycling day, which might provide shelter and renewed obstacles to a giant mosquito intent on its dinner.

"What's our status?" Jack asked, as they slid behind the stack of cartons. His brisk tone was at complete odds with his actions, Gwen thought, something catching in her throat as she watched Jack arrange Ianto carefully against his shoulder. Ianto appeared more resigned than appreciative. They were as bad as each other, Gwen decided, before dragging her mind back to more immediate concerns.

"I have a fix on it," Tosh reported with satisfaction. "Ianto got the tracker into it beautifully.

"Possibly literally," Ianto added, shuddering as he recalled the sickening feeling of the metal disc sinking into the flesh wrapped around his.

Jack teeth flashed as he grinned. "The bait that bit back," he said with approval. "It'll slink off now, and we can track it down at out leisure. Good work."

Ianto didn't respond. But he'd always handled insults far better than praise, so it didn't strike anyone as odd.

"It hasn't slunk yet," Tosh warned. "It's still moving. Snooping around the last place you stopped, I think."

"Got his scent, then," Jack said. "We'll have to get him away quickly." Gwen saw his lower lip slide between his teeth, displaying the concern he wouldn't show in his voice. Pity Ianto couldn't see it, tucked into Jack's shoulder as he was. Tucked very still, she noted, with her own concern rising as she reached for the sodden material at Ianto's throat.

"Is that still bleeding?" she asked anxiously.

"I'll check," Jack said. He brushed his lips against Ianto's cheek before peeling away the makeshift bandage, which he shoved towards Gwen for disposal without so much as looking at her, then commenced a minute inspection of the puncture wounds.

Gwen couldn't help smiling at Jack's possessiveness, in spite of the danger, or perhaps because of it. She was fairly sure she heard a cooing sound over the comm., though it was pretty much drowned out by Owen's snort.

"Shit." Jack slapped a hand hastily over the wound. "Owen, the bite's bleeding again," he announced. "Started when I took the pressure off, assuming it ever stopped. The dressing was soaked through."

Gwen winced at the blood now trickling steadily from beneath Jack's hand. Something was wrong. A tiny wound like that ought to have clotted already.

"There has to be venom still in the bite," Owen decided. "Something to keep the blood flowing. I'm on my way."

Ianto stirred. Jack pressed him back down gently, and then gathered him into his arms, murmuring soothingly in response Ianto's muffled protests.

Gwen looked away, a pang within her that she'd examine later, and realised with distaste that she still had the discarded dressing in her hand. She swallowed against rising nausea, then slipped out into the alleyway, with an idea forming in her mind and a hand on the butt of her gun.

Jack spared Gwen a brief, searching glance as she crept back into their cardboard tower. "What took you so long?" he demanded.

"I planted a bit of a false trail with the old dressing," Gwen answered, feeling quite proud of herself for the notion and determinedly _not _thinking about how she'd done it. "Into a couple of futile-looking hiding places and back. Then I left it wedged right into an awkward corner. Should give us some breathing space."

Ianto smiled weakly. "I have to admit I could use some," he said, with what Gwen considered massive understatement. His usually pale complexion was well on the way to translucent. Jack had another pad of material – from his T-shirt, Gwen thought – bow-tied to Ianto's neck, but she could already see a red tinge growing from the centre.

Jack nodded his approval, giving her an almost-genuine smile which didn't mask the anxiety in his eyes. "Owen will be here soon."

"He's stationary," Tosh said, and there was no mistaking the level of accusation in her tone.

"I'm stuck in traffic," Owen retorted. "Two blocks away and it might as well be ten. Taxis jamming every corner and people in the streets fighting over them. Clubs must be closing. Nice timing, Teaboy."

"So sorry," Ianto said, his best deadpan voice marred by breathlessness. "Exsanguinations are a damned awkward thing to timetable."

"Especially premature exsanguinations," Owen growled back. "Cut the drama Coffeeboy. You'd have lost more donating to the blood bank." He didn't sound confident enough to be convincing, and he knew it. "Just hang in there, you little shit, do you hear me?"

"Him and the rest of Cardiff," Tosh put in, sounding a bit less annoyed than before. "Now, Owen, fewer threats and more driving. Don't slow for the lights, they'll change as soon as you approach."

"He's been told," Jack said, smiling a tight smile down at the man twitching restlessly in his arms.

"Best you do as he says though, Ianto," Gwen said, and even to her own ears it sounded like a plea.

"That's an order," Jack added.

"Sir, yes Sir," Ianto replied. "Wouldn't dream of disobeying orders. Especially not from the lot of you."

Gwen looked away, afraid of what she'd see if she met Jack's eyes.

"It's stopped again," Tosh reported. "The…..the….thing."

"Megamozzie," Ianto supplied. Gwen did look up, then. His voice was stronger, she thought, with a stirring of hope. Maybe the new dressing was helping.

Owen snickered. "We have to have a chat about what constitutes a cool name, mate. I'm past those lights, just have to get through a shitload of taxis and assorted pedestrians."

"I don't think that creature _deserves _a cool name," Ianto retorted. "It's got no class. It didn't even bother to grow itself a cloak. What's a vampire without a cloak?"

"A Cullen?" Tosh suggested.

Jack cleared his throat, quite pointedly. "Gwen's bought us some time," he explained, giving Gwen a properly grateful smile this time. "But I don't want to move Ianto again until Owen's in place. Tosh, can't you do something about the traffic?"

"It's a _jam, _Jack_," _Tosh said impatiently. "I've had the cabs ordered back to base already, but you can bet they're still trying for fares to take with them, and I can't account for all the parents or partners or whatever else doing pick-ups. And the cars still can't move with all the people milling around, so…."

"Deep breaths, Toshiko," Owen ordered, in the 'doctor' voice none of them argued with.

"But there must be _something _we can do, Owen," Gwen said desperately.

"I don't think…" Ianto began, but Tosh's voice override his, pitched high with annoyance.

"You're unbelievable," she snapped. "Pick him up and carry him, for God's sake."

"Which won't cause a panic at all," Owen sniffed. "Someone being carried out of an alley dripping blood will only bring every security guard running."

"Not to mention the Megamozzie," Ianto put in.

"We could wrap him in…." Gwen eyed Jack's coat, noting that Ianto had somehow managed not to bleed on it.

"Oh yeah, that'll help," Owen agreed. "A wrapped body-shaped bundle won't raise a single eyebrow."

"Surely I ought to…." Ianto started, but Jack shushed him with a finger across his lips, which Ianto was sorely tempted to bite.

"I could try the old cowboy standby," Jack suggested hopefully. "Suck the venom out."

Ianto shook his head, dislodging the finger. "No," he protested, with an edge of panic in his voice. The prospect of Jack in the place of that monster turned his already unruly stomach.

Jack pouted. Gwen reached across to squeeze Ianto's hand comfortingly. "I won't let him," she promised.

"And once he's safely back," Tosh said, in a sweet tone that didn't disguise the threat beneath it, "I'll explain how tactless that was, Jack. I might have to slap you a few times first, though."

"We can alternate so your hand doesn't get tired," Gwen offered.

"Will the lot of you stop trying to out-snark each other and _fucking listen_?" Ianto hissed.

Tosh gasped. Gwen and Jack stared at him with identical expressions of shock. The best thing about not swearing very often, Ianto mused with satisfaction, was the impact when you let loose. Even Owen was struck dumb, an event worthy of an entry in his diary, assuming he survived long enough to write one.

"I'm going back out into the alley," Ianto announced.

* * *

><p><em>Did you really think he'd let them bundle him off to safety?<br>Might be a delay with the next chapter, sorry. I know I said it was complete, but I've realised why I didn't post it before - the original ending sucks. (Couldn't resist that one either.) Will try not to keep you waiting long. Thanks for reading._


	4. Chapter 4

_I was tempted to stop at a cliffhanger again, but I was too afraid of flying cookies. Thank you all for reviewing, alerting, reading. Hope you enjoy the rest._

* * *

><p>Ianto waited until the furor died down, jaw set into lines of calm determination.<p>

"You brought me here to be vampire bait, and it worked," he pointed out. "It doesn't make sense to pull me out before I've finished assigned task." Ianto's eyes dropped so he could avoid the look on Jack's face, which was totally ironic because it was exactly the way he'd often wished Jack _would _look at him.

Owen's latest variation of 'bloody idiot' died away to echoes on the comm.

"We have to stop it, and it'll stop for me," Ianto said. "In fact, I'm probably _better_ bait now than I was before."

"Maybe not," Tosh said, with a quite unusual hint of smugness. "Since it's currently moving in the opposite direction. Slinking away, just as Jack said."

"Or following Gwen's false trail," Ianto pointed out, not missing a beat.

Jack turned to Gwen, brows arched in query. "I did double it back a bit," she replied, cautiously proud. "I'm beginning to see your attraction to roofs, Jack. It didn't even look up once."

Jack grinned. "You're learning," he approved.

"Which only means it'll get back into the street from the other end and start looking for someone else," Ianto countered stubbornly.

"No it won't." Jack began to carefully unwrap himself from around Ianto. "I'll be keeping it busy. You lot can get Ianto sorted then come and collect me. And it."

"But…" Tosh paused, logic fighting with the desire to get her friend to safety.

Jack sighed heavily. This is what you got for encouraging your team to speak their mind. This is what you got for choosing a team with ideas worth listening to. "But what, Tosh?"

"It didn't stop for you last time," Tosh said meekly. "Why would now be any different?"

Jack paused with one arm still around Ianto's shoulder, letting his eyes linger over the paler-than-pale face. "I was trying not to hurt it before," he said tightly. "I won't be quite so careful this time."

"But Jack," Gwen objected. "You have to give it a chance to…." then fell silent as his gaze fell coldly on her.

"You usually do," Tosh pointed out timidly.

Ianto's hand closed on his arm. Jack dropped his eyes to his lover's face, seeing the haunted look behind the outwardly calm blue eyes. The look he remembered from after the Beacons. The one he'd never wanted to see there again. "It's had its chance," Jack said stubbornly. "And blew it."

"It might not have construed having bins thrown at it as an invitation to parley," Ianto pointed out dryly. "You can't blame a hunter for hunting, Jack."

"I have to distract it long enough for Owen to get to this end of the alley," Jack countered. "Whatever that takes."

"I'll be ten minutes, tops," Owen supplied. "Even if I have drive the friggin' thing along the footpaths, which come to think of it might be the only place the nitwits aren't swarming."

"And then, Gwen," Jack continued briskly, feeling privately grateful to Owen for putting the discussion back onto a practical footing. "You grab a containment field generator from the SUV and come meet me wherever you ended that trail of yours, and we'll have it a in a cell and be home in time for …..well, breakfast, I guess."

Jack grinned at Gwen, whose complexion had darkened several shades as he spoke. Ianto thought it was quite ominous that she'd neither basked in the praise nor made a modest attempt at distraction. Not like her.

"So, where exactly _does_ the false trail end?" Jack asked, with a hint of impatience. "I'll go over the roof and be waiting for it."

Gwen waved a hand helplessly. "It…..I didn't think … I was only trying to buy us some time, not…..."

Owen gave a pained snicker. "When you said _double-back, _Gwen….you meant back to you at the end, didn't you? Oh, that's…."

"Responsible," Ianto cut in firmly. "Because she didn't want it loose amongst the public, and rightly so. And yeah Jack, maybe you _can_ distract it, but maybe you can't. It dodged right past you last time, twice even, and for all we know it could just dodge a bullet, too. Or absorb one, like it did the tracker. But," he paused for breath. "But we _know _it'll stop for me. It knows I'm injured it's got my scent. It has to think I'm easy prey, and no hunter will ignore that."

Gwen's eyes dropped. Jack's hand tightened on his shoulder. The comm. went silent

"But if I'm_ not_ here, when it arrives," Ianto continued grimly. "And it gets out there, into a mass of people…."

Gwen looked up. "It won't attack in public," she said hopefully. "It never has before."

"It won't have to," Ianto replied. "A traffic jam, right Tosh?"

"Yeess," Tosh agreed, very slowly. Reluctantly. It was that she didn't _want_ to come up with a brilliant alternative, Ianto knew. It was simply that she couldn't think of one. Which meant there _wasn't _one.

"People milling about, trying to get home," Ianto continued.

"Well, yes, but…"

"And there's_ never_ enough taxis."

"Still…."

"All it will have to do is offer a lift," Ianto concluded. "You must have seen its human form through the contacts, Tosh. Do you think it'll have any problems finding someone to accept if it offers them a ride home?"

Tosh sigh echoed over the comms. "No," she conceded. "None at all. It _was_ stunning, well, until you looked closely."

Jack made a scoffing noise worthy of Owen. "And they're just going to follow it into a shadowed corner without a backward glance?"

"Nine people already have," Gwen conceded glumly. "It'd only have to tell them it parked in a side street. But," she continued, brightening. "We've got the tracker, we just follow it."

"Speaking of which, it's moving back towards you," Tosh put in, her voice quiet enough that she might have been hoping not to be heard. "It's weaving from side to side though." She swallowed audibly. "Casting for scent, at a guess. I'd say you've got four, maybe five minutes before it hits your corner."

"We can't risk letting it go past," Ianto said, with his best effort at a commanding tone. He had to stop this wavering, before he weakened enough to accept one of the increasingly desperate objections. "You_ know_ we can't. If you couldn't keep it off me, with two of you practically on top of me, what chance have you got of getting to someone else in time? Especially through that traffic jam? When we've got no way of telling what the new victim will look like – or the attacker for that matter. There's no guarantee it'll take the same form, and even if it does, neither of you saw it properly before it changed. Did you Jack? Gwen?"

There was a short but telling silence.

"So, I'm going back out there, keep it distracted, and you can all do the hero thing again. Just a bit faster this time, OK?"

"If I might make a suggestion," Owen put in dryly. "Y'know, just as the doctor with a patient bleeding his heart out– through his vocal cords, by the sound of it."

"We're listening," Jack answered. "Make it a good one." But even his voice sounded resigned.

Owen's voice turned brisk. "Right, well, I've had some of Ianto's blood in the nifty little traveling centrifuge Tosh made for me, been hanging out to try it."

Jack cleared his throat.

"Anyway," Owen continued, "I've separated out the clotting factor; on the basis he'll need that more than whole blood. It's ready for transfusion, but I can draw some into a syringe. So Gwen love, hotfoot it out to me and grab it, and that should stablise our noble bait long enough to survive his latest stab at heroics. OK?"

Ianto sighed, and by now he didn't even know if it was relief or regret. Owen had removed the last obstacle.

"Leaving them one down," Tosh pointed out. "You should have let me come with you."

"We'll need you there if it gets past us," Jack said softly. Resignedly. "Ianto's right, it's going to be nearly impossible to find in a crowd. We'll need everything we've got to put enough precision behind the tracker. Which means you and your ungodly alliance with Mainframe."

Gwen got to her feet, and then looked at Jack, eyebrows raised, seeking permission.

"Go," Jack said impatiently. "Don't forget the containment field. And you'd better be back here before the…" he looked at Ianto with a pained smile, "Megamozzie arrives, or I might have to forget my attempt at leniency."

"ETA three point five minutes," Tosh announced.

-XXX-

They sat entwined amongst rustling cardboard until the echo of Gwen's boots died away.

Jack shifted restlessly. "Ianto…."

"We're going off comm. for a moment," Tosh interrupted. "So Owen can give Gwen directions and tell me how he wants the med bay set up when you get back. You won't want the chatter while you're listening for Megamozzie. I'll come back on and let you know when it reaches your corner."

Ianto forbore to point out that they wouldn't need to listen if Tosh was giving them their warning, instead making a mental note to buy her a very large box of chocolates, given that she'd publicly contradicted herself to give them a moment of privacy. He smiled gently up at Jack, trailing a determinedly steady hand along the stubborn jaw-line. The muscles beneath his fingers twitched, and Ianto's heart twitched along with them. He shouldn't be glad for the troubled expression, should he? Only he was. It was an odd, precious feeling, knowing that Jack was frightened for him. That he cared enough to _be_ frightened.

Jack turned his head, catching Ianto's hand with his lips, mumbling around the fingers. "Please, Ianto, I…"

Then again, Ianto decidedly hastily, a frightened plea from Jack might well be the only thing he _couldn'_t brush off. His hand moved to cover Jack's lips, trapping the words behind his fingers.

"I think I could use another energy transfer, Jack. Don't you?"

-XXX-

"Oh shit," Tosh said, over the comm. Too vulgar, too soon and too panicked to be a good thing.

Ianto pulled out of Jack's embrace fast enough to make him dizzy. Or maybe it wasn't the movement…Actually he probably shouldn't have done that with a compromised blood supply, especially considering the direction his remaining supply was flowing in.

"It's moving faster," Tosh said. "It must have pulled something out of the air. What the hell's happened, Ianto? Did you start bleeding again or something?"

Ianto and Jack exchanged guilty glances. "I knew those pheromones would get me in trouble one day," Ianto whispered. Jack glared down at him even while pulling him closer.

"Gwen, where are you?" Jack demanded.

"Fighting off some stupid bouncer with first-aid pretensions," Gwen said, biting off each word at spitting it between obviously gritted teeth. "You might have warned me about the blood on my shirt, Jack. But I'll be there soon." She didn't bother disengaging her comm. again, so they could hear the ensuing argument. _"I'm fine, I tell you. It's fake blood. Halloween for shit's sake, don't you own a calendar? No that's not a frigging syringe. OK, yes of course it is, but not __**that**__ sort….Medicinal…..I'm ….I'm diabetic, you idiot!"_

"That's quite clever," Ianto said placidly. "But I think we'll have to start without her."

"I'll be there in a minute! _No I don't want your shitty pamphlets, just_ _let me __**go**__!_"

"She's got the syringe then," Ianto noted. "Hope she remembered the containment field. That way she can stick me while you're zapping Mozzieman. Don't mix them up, huh?"

"Thought it was Megamozzie," Jack said, meeting the gallows humor with an attempt at normality that didn't quite come off. "Look, Ianto, you could just…"

"Go out there as planned," Ianto finished. "Right you are. I could use an arm up, Jack, if you don't mind."

Jack took the proffered arm. "Owen…?"

"Half a block," Owen said tensely. "I'll be driving over the stupid sods any minute."

The blaring of a familiar horn added to the cacophony of a busy block at night.

"It's just around your corner," Tosh said, her voice strained. "Look, just let it pass, Ianto. Owen can head it off in the SUV."

And Tosh _was_ spouting pointless excuses after all. It really was all going to shit.

"You can let go now, Jack," Ianto said insistently.

Jack blinked. How Ianto had managed to lead them out from behind those boxes and into the alley was beyond him, especially considering Jack was supporting them both.

The weight on his arm increased suddenly as Ianto sank onto the gritty paving. "Do your roof thing," Ianto urged. "Or get back behind those boxes. Out of sight, Jack, go on."

Jack gaped down at him. Ianto's mouth was set into a tight line. He looked so darned cute when he was being stubborn. And he looked so good in red. The wad of T-shirt at his throat blazed red against alabaster skin. Bright red. Jack had to stop himself checking the remnants of the shirt, mostly dangling from his neck now, because if he could convince himself he'd worn a red T-shirt today - not that he owned one, but he could have borrowed one of Ianto's couldn't' he? –he might actually be able to leave him there, alone. So alone and vulnerable.

If he _could_ do that, he didn't deserve to have someone like Ianto look at him with so much trust, gift him with so much faith. Jack's feet felt as though they'd sunk into the gritty surface beneath them.

"If you make this all for nothing, Jack," Ianto threatened. "I swear I'm going to dump you."

It broke the paralysis. Jack took a single step backwards. "You wouldn't dare," he answered, after he'd gotten enough moisture back into this throat to get words out.

"Oh yes I would," Ianto assured him. "After we do all the Halloween stuff I planned, of course."

"Can't waste all your effort," Jack agreed. That sound he was making had to be a laugh, didn't it? Because it couldn't be a sob. "Ianto, I….oh God…I can't…,"

"You can't stop it, Jack," Ianto said. Quietly. Calmly. "But if it doesn't know you're here, you might surprise it. Buy us time. Buy _me _time. Just until Gwen gets here with the containment field. Go on, Jack, just behind you."

Ianto's voice was damned near hypnotic. Jack didn't know he was backing away until his shoulder hit the cardboard of their hideout, making the boxes wobble. He steadied them automatically, and then found a wall to lean against and a space between the boxes to peer through. And waited.

-XXX-

Something sounded along the alley that wasn't the tap of Gwen's boots. A slither. A rustle. A slithering rustle. Gwen hadn't gotten there in time. No containment field, no useful clotting agent to neutralize the effect of the first bite before he had to face the prospect of a second.

Ianto's mind was very clear now, the clarity of one past fear, past pain. It wasn't telling him anything he particularly wanted to hear. He knew exactly how weak he was. He knew he'd lost too much blood for any real attempt at a fight.

He knew he might not survive another attack. So, logically, he had to make sure he didn't _get _attacked. Delaying tactics, as Jack said. And Jack would help. Jack was just on the other side of those boxes. Nothing to worry about, then.

Slither. Rustle. Slowing. Stopping. A hiss. Who knew hisses could sound triumphant?

It wasn't wearing the fake clothes anymore. And it had wings now, glossy insect wings, iridescent in the moonlight, raised slightly from its back, rustling in the night breeze. Wings. Ianto wasn't sure how shape-shifting worked, but surely it would've been easier to turn them into a cloak than absorb them. Would have been much more impressive, too. Shabby effort, really. Maybe the thing wasn't very intelligent, after all. Altering its appearance to make itself attractive to its prey might well be instinct. Learning the language could just be mimicry. Plenty of Earth animals did both of those.

Mosquito wasn't quite right, Ianto concluded, his overly clear mind occupying itself with analysis in an attempt to fend off encroaching panic. Mosquitoes didn't have claws, did they? And he was pretty sure mosquitoes only had one…stinger?...sucker? Not fangs, anyway. Mind, those tubes didn't look like fangs. More like needles. Hollow needles. Very long ones. And those eyes. Those whirring eyes.

Ianto shut his own eyes tightly. If he wanted any chance of using his remaining physical strength for resistance he couldn't allow himself to be hypnotized again. Only it was horrible, horribly horrible, not being able to see it approach. Not knowing exactly how close it was.

Not being able to glance through that gap in the boxes for the reassuring sight of Jack. Just as well, really. Not strategically sound to look toward his ally.

Ianto frowned. He'd meant to warn the others about the hypnosis. Couldn't remember whether he had. Couldn't remember whether he'd told Jack not to look at it.

Ianto remembered what those claws felt like, though. There was just the one this time, sliding along his neck, under the ridiculous bow tie. Slicing it.

A tiny wet thud as the dressing fell away. A fresh wave of dizziness, the trickle turning into a stream.

Ianto got his hands underneath himself, shoving, feet scuffing against the paving, trying to push himself away. It wasn't working very well. His limbs were operating with much less co-ordination than directed.

Claws closing around his biceps. Lifting him. Hands scrabbling for purchase, finding only air and his own body to flail against. A thumb caught in his waistband. Caught, stuck, held. If it dropped him he'd probably break that wrist.

It shook him again. Did that last time, too. Made his head floppy.

Two cold points against his neck. Again. Jack wasn't coming to the rescue. And he would, if he could. So he couldn't.

It must have trapped Jack's eyes through that gap in the boxes. Maybe Jack was watching this, unable to move. Ianto wished he could tell him it wasn't his fault. He'd never forgive himself.

This was how it felt when hope died,…

-XXX-

This was how it felt when hoped revived. Hope was the sound of crushing boxes, and the bark of a Webley.

The thing shook with the impact of the bullets. Shook, but didn't fall. Shaken but not stirred. No sign of injury, so it must have absorbed the bullets, just like Ianto had feared it would. The claws on his arms didn't loosen in the slightest. But the ice moved away from his neck, replaced with warmth. Liquid warmth. He was bleeding again. Or still.

It was hissing. Jack was swearing. They sounded kind of the same. Maybe Jack spoke Megamozzie. A hissy language would be good for swearing in.

Something fell to the ground with a metallic tinkle. Two somethings.

The hiss turned into a scream. A high pitched, fingernails-on-a-blackboard scream that set dogs barking for blocks around. The claws around his arms unlocked, and Ianto fell to the ground with a thud that rattled his bones. On his side, thankful for small mercies when the hand still hooked in his waistband didn't smash against the ground after all. His elbow wasn't quite so lucky.

It was probably safe to open his eyes now. Megamozzie had lost its sting. Moonlight reflected from two slender tubes that had been its - teeth? Fangs? Ianto still wasn't sure what to call them, but they wouldn't be biting anyone again. The needlelike points were undamaged but the tops had splintered. Whatever parted them from their owner, it hadn't been gentle.

Ianto rolled his head away. And there was Jack. Much more pleasant to look at.

Jack was bloody gorgeous, actually. Bloody _and _gorgeous. Demonstrably not hypnotized. Hands on his hips, body planted firmly between predator and prey. Holding the Webley by the barrel. Aha. Explained the ragged ends on the …er…fangs. When the bullets didn't work, he'd used it as a club. As he'd said earlier, not elegant, but effective.

The thing screeched again. Ianto's ears hurt. Matched the rest of him.

"You'd better start talking if you want a chance to live," Jack said, in the reasonable voice which meant he was holding onto his temper by its frayed edges. "And I don't have a translator handy, so let's go for English, shall we?"

The creature morphed back into human form, the beautiful vampire Ianto had met the first time. Even in that form its fangs were broken. A vampire with no cloak and no fangs. No vampire any more. Just a battered, broken insect wearing an imitation human face and pretend clothes.

It screeched again, not quite so brain-hurtingly. Mouth open, rubbing its hands over its broken teeth. "I cannot feed," it wailed. "Hungry!"

Kind of pathetic, really. Ianto pushed his foot out as far as it could go, managing the slightest brush of toe over Jack's ankle. Jack's eyes traveled to him, lost several degrees of ice, then swiveled back.

"I'm going to offer you a chance to leave," Jack said, all the ice from his eyes now in his voice. "Only because my girls are softhearted and my boy…." His foot nudged Ianto's. Ianto kicked it. Weakly, but still a kick.

"My boy isn't vindictive," Jack continued. "And he doesn't like it when I am. So you get one chance and one only. Go home. Your home planet, wherever that is. Ask them for some false teeth and tell them to leave Earth alone if they want to keep their own. Do you have a ship?"

"Broken," the creature screeched.

Ianto was pretty sure it meant its teeth. Jack assumed otherwise. "My technician is a genius," Jack said offhandedly. "She can fix it. How good a job she does probably depends on her mood, given you've been snacking on her best friend. Best you ask nicely, and even then I'd check the navigation system before I head home, if I were you."

"I am exiled," it groaned.

"Big surprise. Not my problem. Last chance. Do you want us to fix your ship or not?"

The creature looked at Jack. Looked _beyond_ Jack. Reached out, scooped Jack up and flung him against the wall. Hard. Too hard. Bones smashed audibly. It was Jack's head lolling now. It'd killed Jack. It had killed Jack and it didn't even stop to feed on him, wasteful little shit. Stumbling instead on its human legs toward the alley, towards the crowds. Towards escape. And food.

"No you bloody don't!"

Towards Gwen. Gwen the vampire slayer, resplendent in black leather over a blood-splattered shirt. She'd give Buffy a decent run for her money. All she was missing was the stake.

She had the containment cell instead. Probably a bit more useful, in this instance. Gwen's arm drew back. It was going to be fine. Gwen had been working on her aim since that incident with the chisel. The field generator would hit the floor near the beastie's ankles, and it'd be trapped until the battery ran out. Long enough.

The creature morphed, faster than the eye could follow. Blink and you missed it. Neither of which described the speed, the blur, the eye-twisting experience of….its eyes.

Ianto saw the insectoid eyes whirring and slammed his own eyelids shut, realising a second later that it hadn't been looking at _him_. He screamed a warning but Gwen didn't hear, or at least, couldn't respond. Ianto risked a peek, and despaired. She was locked in place already, eyes glazed over. The field generator hit the ground, too far away to be of any use, capturing a column of swirling dust and illuminating the alleyway with the blue glow of trapped lightening.

The rustling began again. Guess its teeth weren't hurting anymore. It was leaving. It was _laughing._ A parody of laughter taken straight from the background of a sit-com, or perhaps a horror movie. The manic laughter of the mad scientist.

Wings rustled as it slipped past Ianto, disregarding him completely. He was beneath its notice now. Weak, bleeding victim. Already drained maybe. No challenge.

Or maybe too much of a one. Bait too well defended. Bait that bit back.

He could still kick, couldn't he? He'd kicked Jack.

Strength was just a concept Ianto's muscles had forgotten how to summon, but he didn't _need _strength if he had momentum. Momentum and a pivot point. Ianto flailed around with a complete lack of grace, pivoting on the elbow trapped beneath his side, braced against the hand hooked around something rigidly unmovable in the small of his back.

He _could_ kick. Not hard, but it was all about the angle, really. And if he could just get the other leg around…Hey, he could _scissor kick._ Cool.

The Megamozzie hit the alley with a thud. He might even have heard something snap. Bones? Chiton?

Ianto turned towards the welcome sound of Gwen swearing. She was swearing_ and_ crawling. Weak. Drained, and it hadn't even put fang to her.

"Shut your bloody eyes," Ianto yelped. He'd be embarrassed about that later. A bellow would have been much more impressive.

A claw reached for his neck again. Both claws. It couldn't drink him anymore but it was currently investigating whether choking would do. Oh, lovely. As if being bitten to death by a mosquito wasn't undignified enough, now he was being squeezed dry as well, like a lemon. Death by Mosquito Cocktail. Mosquito Mojito.

Gwen wouldn't get to him in time and Jack was dead again. Tosh and Owen were yelling and swearing and contradicting each other and the SUV engine roared in the street. Owen would have a ball driving it through the barrier at the street end, after which he'd find out the hard way that the alley was narrower than the SUV.

All in all, Ianto considered that the team wasn't doing a very good job of saving him tonight. He'd have to save himself instead. Ha. And they'd all thought he couldn't.

That thing his hand had been locked around all this time? Stun gun. Fully charged, of course. Part of his job, keeping the stunners field-ready.

Sizzle. Crackle. Pop.

Fried mosquito. Not elegant. But effective.

* * *

><p><em>See, no cliffie! More or less done. If you choose to read the remaining chapter, please brace yourself for fluff.<em>


	5. Chapter 5

_Hi Everyone, sorry about the wait. I'm going to split the conclusion into two chapters because it keeps growing on me. So in this piece we have mostly aftermath, and the serious fluff will follow later. Hope you enjoy._

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><p>Gwen crawled the rest of the way to Ianto's side around the same time Jack gasped back into life. The alley glowed with a sickly light as the SUV headlights briefly merged with the blue of the containment field. It ought to produce green, Ianto thought. A nice soothing green. Only it didn't. The alley looked every bit as off-color as its inhabitants. The unappealing view didn't matter though, because Ianto had something much better to look at. Jack filled his fuzzy vision, filled all his senses for that matter; Jack's arms were around him, Jack's scent in his nostrils, Jack's voice murmuring in his ear, soothing, unintelligible words that completely drowned out Tosh's anxious admonishments via the comm.<p>

Evidently the cavalry had arrived. It was safe to leave it all to them now. Just as well, _because there was something stinging his neck again._

Jack's arms closed around him, as restrictive as any paralysis. Ianto scrabbled uselessly against the grip, tried to force an explanation around the hysteria pouring from his lips, but Jack wouldn't let him free, wouldn't listen.

Owen's voice cut through the clamor, there was another sting, in his arm this time, and the dirty glow of the alley narrowed to the watery blue of Jack's eyes, then blinked out into blessed darkness.

-XXX-

He hadn't been unconscious long, Ianto thought, when his brain began to stagger back towards awareness, because he could smell the pungent aroma of un-emptied bins overlaid with the metallic sting of burned insect. Just his luck. In a stinky alleyway, he'd get smell back first.

Then again, he could smell Jack, too, which was better than any pine-scented deodorizer ever made. Ianto resolved to count his blessing, and got all the way to two.

Hearing returned next. Voices. Clear, each word distinct, if strangely distant. Now, if he was anyone but Ianto Jones, the voices would be singing his praises. Murmuring soothing words of comfort, at least. But no, because he _was _Ianto Jones, the voices were yelling instead. Arguing.

"Friggin' hell, Cooper, what were you thinking?" Owen of course.

"You told me to use a vein,"said a voice that sound like Gwen, only smaller.

There was a heavy 'all of you who are not doctors cannot possibly understand what I suffer' sigh, followed by "Well, yeah. _A_ vein. Any vein would have done. Any _other_ vein, for preference."

Jack's voice. Low, guttural, almost a growl. "You mean it _didn't_ have to go directly into the wound?"

Owen merely sniffed. The man had quite an impressive command of non-verbal communication.

"I thought it'd work faster that way," said the meek voice which sounded nothing like the feisty woman Torchwood knew and frequently loved.

Owen snorted this time, just for variety, Ianto supposed. "And the shock of thinking he was being attacked again wouldn't do any harm at all, would it?"

Gwen gasped. Something clamped around Ianto's hand, something from the side where the scent that belonged to Jack was strongest. Jack was holding his hand – with two of the team present - and Ianto quietly relished the fact along with the return of the sense of touch, which he'd relish more if it wasn't quite so hard. He was hurting quite enough already without adding a cracked finger or two.

Far away, there was a muted cacophony of chimes, bells, snatches of tune. On its heels came Tosh's voice, clear and bell-like through the fog wrapped around Ianto's returning senses.

"Every phone in a five meter radius of the alleyway just received a 'get your arse back here' message from its number one speed-dial," Tosh announced. "So they're either ducking off to text or back in the scramble for taxis and this is your window to quit the pissing match and get Ianto out of there. Now."

It sounded like Tosh was a bit annoyed, Ianto decided, given he'd counted two minor curses in one breath. Tosh was a bit annoyed in the same way that Wales was a bit damp. Still, given the way the rest of the team snapped into action, she had things firmly under control, which was comforting. Ianto sunk gratefully back into oblivion, taking with him the feel of Jack's hand still wrapped firmly around his own.

-XXX-

Ianto's eyes opened on the same view they'd closed on, but in reverse. Blue pinpricks grew into blue orbs that became two worried blue eyes, suspiciously damp.

"Hi Jack," he said groggily, then giggled. "Hijack," he repeated. "That's funny, huh?"

"Hilarious." Jack replied. He didn't sound very amused, though. Ianto frowned as memory seeped back, then groped for his neck, stymied by the fact that both of his hands were inexplicably heavy.

"It's OK," Jack said hurriedly. Ianto felt a strong hand squeeze his. Jack was still holding his hand, then. That explained half of the 'not being able to move his arms' thing, not to mention being kind of nice.

Ianto squinted the other way. His left hand was playing host to one of those pointy objects Owen gloried in sticking into people, which was in turn connected to a long, winding tube, comfortingly red, leading from a bag suspended somewhere above. He was being filled back up. What the bug taketh, Owen giveth back.

Blue eyes smiled into blue for a few moments of precious, perfect peace. Jack brought his other hand up to stroke the hair away from Ianto's forehead, just for the sake of more contact. "So, how're you feeling?" he asked carefully.

Ianto looked up into eyes whose twinkle was dulled by worry and mentally chastised himself for being so pleased.

"I'm feeling…..drained," he replied, watching closely for a reaction. The twinkle returned. Jack's laugh echoed across the Hub.

From elsewhere in the medical bay, Owen thanked the gods of medicine – or possibly Ianto – for breaking the ridiculously sentimental atmosphere and stalked to his patient's side.

"If you're strong enough to make crappy jokes, I can stop risking life and limb keeping those two women away from you," he announced, after a brief examination.

Ianto nodded with enthusiasm. "Never too tired to have women throwing themselves at me," he agreed.

"Hey," Jack objected. Ianto smiled. Jack was worried about him, and giving at least the pretence of jealousy. This was progress.

Owen tipped his head back. "He's awake!" he shouted.

A squeal sounded from above. It didn't sound like Tosh, really, but given that she promptly threw herself down the stairs then across Ianto, it could hardly be anyone else.

It would have been easier to drop Jack's hand so he could stroke Tosh's hair, but Ianto chose to use the other instead, being careful not to tangle the tubes into the glossy black strands. Tosh's face was buried in his chest, her shoulders shaking.

"I'm OK, Cariad," Ianto said softly. When the sobs didn't decrease, he clowly slipped his other hand from Jack's grasp and wound it firmly around her shoulders. "C'mon, Tosh. It's all right. I'll be fine."

Jack shifted restlessly, feeling almost like an intruder without the warm hand within his, but still unwilling to cede his place at Ianto's side. Especially to a 'Cariad'. Ianto had never favored _him _with an endearing nickname. With or without Welsh vowels.

Ianto continued the soothing, while casting a questioning glance at Owen, who shrugged in reply. "She held it together until you got back," the medic told Ianto softly, before glaring at Jack. "Unlike some others I could mention. Anyhow, I reckon she's entitled to lose it a bit now."

"I _can_ hear you, you know," Tosh mumbled into Ianto's chest. She straightened slowly, then examined her friend through reddened eyes. "Are you really OK, Ianto?"

Ianto smiled. "A bit drained, is all."

Owen groaned. "You've already used that one," he complained.

Tosh laughed weakly than sat back, rubbing a hand furiously across her eyes. "When you're better I'm going to slap you," she warned Ianto. "It's Jack's job to play the hero, not yours."

"Hear, Hear," Jack agreed, with forced heartiness.

"I wasn't being a hero," Ianto corrected solemnly. "I was being bait. And I did a bloody good job, didn't I? Get it, _bloody _good job?"

"Oh, you…" Tosh hugged him, fiercely, then pulled away. Ianto wasn't at all surprised to see her shrink towards Owen, but he _was _quite pleased at the way Owen's arms twined around her without hesitation. Progress all around, it appeared.

Gwen had made her way much more slowly down the staircase. And it was a quiet, subdued version of Ianto's usually vivacious colleague who took the chair Tosh had vacated. "_Are_ you all right?" she asked, anxious eyes exploring his face.

Gwen hadn't so much as glanced at Jack, Ianto noticed. Not that it would have done her much good, what with Jack staring daggers at a point somewhere just above her head. Ianto's eyebrows rose, the eyes beneath them flicking with curiosity from Jack to Owen, noting that Owen too was looking anywhere other than at Gwen. Though in Owen's case it might have be related to whatever he was murmuring into Tosh's hair.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Ianto asked, mystified and a bit concerned that everyone was keeping something important from him. "I mean, much as I hate to admit it, Owen_ is_ actually a competent doctor."

Tosh giggled, realised her face was still buried in Owen's shoulder, and withdrew with a squeak. Ianto noted with satisfaction the way Owen watched her vanish up the staircase, then returned his attention to the uncharacteristically quaking Gwen.

"And I'm sure you got to me faster than the other people that beastie attacked, Gwen," he continued. "So why wouldn't Owen be able to fix me?"

At which Ianto had his arms full of another weeping colleague. His hands patted her back absently while his eyes fixed on Owen. "What's happened?" he demanded. "Why are you both being so nasty to Gwen?"

Gwen's sobs grew louder. Jack twitched; completely unsettled by Ianto's defense of someone he'd always smugly assumed Ianto was either jealous of or threatened by.

Owen sniffed. "She only made you pass out, didn't she?"

Jack made a kind of growly noise which Ianto suddenly remembered from his semi-conscious daze, and things began to fall into place. He squeezed Gwen's shoulder, then gently disengaged himself from her embrace, nudging her into a chair instead. Jack promptly reclaimed a hand. Ianto thought that was quite nice, as long as it didn't become too much of a habit. Then again, he could probably make coffee one-handed, if he had to.

"As far as I remember," Ianto said slowly. "Gwen came damned close to getting attacked herself, trying to get that syringe to me."

"Whereupon she stuck it right into the wound, triggering a totally justified panic attack," Owen put in.

"And _I_ had to hold you still while she did it," Jack interrupted, voice ragged. "You thought you were being attacked again, and you thought…..you thought I was helping it."

Gwen finally met Jack's eyes, and her face lost its remaining color at the desolation looking back at her. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.

Jack shrugged. Ianto glared at him. Jack glared back, but his eyes dropped first. He never could outstare Ianto, and he wondered why he kept trying.

"I suppose you meant well," Jack admitted grudgingly, finally meeting Gwen's eyes.

Owen muttered something which included the phrase 'paving the road to hell' but subsided when Ianto's glare found a new target.

Ianto cleared his throat. "So she put the clotting factor right into the site where the anticoagulant was injected," he summarized. It appeared his mind was in working order again, which was a comfort. "Wouldn't that make it work faster?"

"That's what I thought," Gwen agreed, favoring him with a smile that was almost back to normal, if somewhat wobbly. "That, and not knowing how to find a vein by myself."

Owen took Ianto's blood pressure before responding, frustrated by how much of Jack – and Gwen - he had to get out the way first. It wasn't that he didn't understand. Jack and Gwen had stuffed up– both of them, in different ways - and Ianto paid in blood for it. They were dealing with a shit-load of guilt, which in Jack's case was complicated in ways Owen preferred not to think about, but was being forced to, which didn't help his frustration levels in the slightest.

"Owen," Ianto prompted. "Would it work faster that way, or not?"

"Yeah, maybe," Owen conceded, reluctantly. "The issue being," he continued, before Gwen could start feeling too vindicated, "Whether it worked fast enough to clot your blood in time for the shock-induced stroke."

Gwen gasped. Jack clutched Ianto tighter, if that were even possible. Owen almost felt sorry for them. Almost. But after this, maybe the pair of them would think twice before sailing into the next crisis half-cocked.

"Which it didn't," Ianto prompted, very pointedly.

Owen sighed. "Which it didn't," he agreed. He'd have liked to drag his lesson out further, but both Jack and Gwen were giving new definition to the description 'haggard' so he reluctantly decided to let them all – including himself, considering the looks Ianto was giving him – off the hook.

"Because you wouldn't have kept something like that from me, would you Owen?" Ianto continued, his tone as sweet as the sap of a Venus flytrap.

"Wouldn't dare," Owen grumbled. Really, there ought to be a law against a patient looking at his doctor as if he was wondering which crack said doctor had crawled out of.

Ianto smirked.

"You're growing quite a healthy martyr complex there," Owen added, getting in one final dig. "Too much forgiveness makes for a poor memory, is all I'm saying."

Gwen watched the doctor sail up the staircase, trailing his dignity behind him.

"He's right," she admitted. "I should have thought….I should have _asked_…I really am sorry, Ianto….Jack_._"

Ianto sighed. He didn't want apologies. He just wanted them all to leave, before Jack remembered he wasn't the sentimental sort, after all. "You're forgiven, and thank you," he said, which ought to cover everything.

"Yeah," Jack agreed hurriedly, as Ianto showed signs of the glare again. "All is forgiven. Now go home." He'd had enough of _his _Ianto comforting crying women, especially given that he could use a large serve of comforting himself. "And if Tosh is still shaky, how about the two of you share a taxi?"

Gwen smiled, still somewhat damply. "I'll take her home and let Rhys feed her," she decided. She rose to her feet. "Thanks Jack. Ianto…if there's anything…."

"Have a lovely night," Ianto said politely. "Give Rhys my regards."

Gwen couldn't help giggling at the polite dismissal.

"Don't call to check on him," Jack added. "He'll be sleeping."

-XXX-

Ianto sank gratefully onto the mattress of Jack's bunk. He felt almost like himself again, if a terribly weak version of himself. One of Owen's toys was still embedded in the back of his hand, but that was a minor concession in return for escaping the autopsy bay for the night.

"It's the medical bay when I've got a live patient," Owen had corrected. "But yeah, you might as well be in something that a least passes for a real bed. I'm leaving the cannula in, though. I don't want to risk triggering another stress attack if you need more blood. Or a sedative. Or whatever else I decide on."

Which was uncommonly pleasant, for Owen. He'd even agreed to Ianto having a shower, as long as someone supervised. Jack, of course, had only been too happy to volunteer.

Jack refrained from tucking Ianto in, instead pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Try to sleep," he directed. "I just need to get Owen's instructions for the night, then I'll be back."

Ianto closed his eyes with a contented sigh. It was something of a relief that Jack actually did mean sleep, this time. Ianto couldn't remember the last time he'd objected to one of Jack's more customary forms of relaxation, but then he couldn't remember the last time he'd been this tired, either. The blood loss, he supposed, regardless of the how much replacement blood Owen had pumped into him. And there'd been a lot. Ianto was sure he could hear it sloshing about inside him.

-XXX-

"I think I've got it all," Jack said, trying not to sound impatient as Owen went through Ianto's care instructions for the third time. "You should head off home, too," he offered.

Owen shook his head. "I'll kip on the sofa, thanks."

Jack frowned. "You think I can't look after him?"

Owen ran a hand through his hair. "Not that you can't," he said, with an unusual effort at diplomacy. "More that maybe you won't be able to."

Owen's hand waved imperiously as Jack drew breath to retort. "You're too close," he said bluntly. "If something goes wrong, it'll likely go spectacularly wrong, and I can't take the chance of you panicking."

Jack's face showed his confusion. Owen groaned internally, wished he'd asked Tosh to hang about long enough to do the tactful touchy-feely stuff, then squared his shoulders and motioned Jack over towards the ratty Torchwood sofa.

"I reckon," Owen began, before Jack could get a word out. "That you're as angry at yourself as you are at Gwen. You dropped the ball as badly as she did out there tonight."

Jack's mouth opened, ready to protest, then closed again. Fishlike, Owen thought, in an effort to regain his usual lack of sympathy. Didn't work. He couldn't help feeling sorry for the bloke. Apparently Ianto had gotten too far under Jack's skin, and the immortal nitwit was being forced to deal with something he'd avoided for so long he'd lost his coping mechanisms.

"You froze, Jack," Owen continued, not without sympathy. "I'd guess more than once. You let - oh hell, this sounds so bloody Doctor Phil, but there's no other way to say it – You let your feelings for him override your judgement."

Jack let his head sink into his hands, replaying the night in his mind. "You're right," he admitted. "I was watching Ianto when I should have been watching the alley and I let the shape-shifter take me by surprise." He lifted his head and met Owen's eyes. "You were right on that, too, Owen. It wasn't the venom that paralysed the victims. It was its eyes. Hypnosis. Ianto tried to tell me but I was too busy…."

"Spare me," Owen said, with a good imitiation of his usual sarcasm. "But you must see why I have to stay. You can't guarantee it won't happen again if he has a bad turn tonight, can you?"

Jack nodded, more drooping head than assent.

Owen rose from the sofa, pausing to give Jack an awkward pat on the shoulder. "Don't take it so hard, mate. It's kind of nice to know you're only human after all."

Jack looked up, eyes haunted. "I can't afford to be, though, can I?"

Owen did the shoulder pat again. "If you'll take a piece of advice from someone woefully unequipped to give it, talk to him. Much as it pains me to admit it, the boy has good sense."

* * *

><p><em>As I said, more to come. Jack and Ianto in the bunker...fluff of course, Ianto isn't well enough for smut, even if I was capable of writing it.<em>

_Thanks for reading_


	6. Chapter 6

_Finally, here's the last bit. A fluff heavy conclusion, as promised. Sorry I kept you waiting so long, but it was a real pain in the neck (yeah I know, sorry about that too - but it really was!). _

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><p>Jack climbed carefully down the ladder into the bunker, swearing under his breath as Ianto stirred. "Didn't mean to wake you," he murmured.<p>

"Wasn't really asleep," Ianto assured him, yawning. "Just dozing, is all." He gave a deprecating chuckle. "Guess I've gotten used to having company. Even this bed's starting to feel too big."

Jack hastened to accept the unvoiced invitation. He slid into the bed and wrapped his arms carefully around his lover, telling himself he was only imagining that Ianto felt more frail than usual. Ianto's lips sought his, but Jack met them only fleetingly, forcing himself to draw away before the kiss could deepen.

"None of that tonight," Jack said, not even attempting to hide his regret. He wanted the comfort the intimacy would bring, but Owen would quite rightly have a treasured part of his anatomy on a plate if he exhausted Ianto tonight.

Ianto made a sound somewhere between yawn and chuckle. "Not a chance," he agreed. "Just wanted you to hold me." He broke off; mouth snapping shut midway through another yawn. "God, that's soppy. Forget I said it."

"Soppy's allowable, tonight," Jack said, kissing the tip of that button nose by way of a demonstration. "Might even be mandatory. In the spirit of which, don't you ever scare me like that again, OK?" The light tone belied the haunted eyes. Ianto's arms moved to encircle Jack's waist, delivering a wordless reassurance from the strength of the grip.

The tiny piece of evidence that Ianto really was on the way to recovery shattered whatever shards of control Jack had been clinging to, and he clutched Ianto so hard the young man actually squeaked.

"I nearly lost you," Jack whispered. His head dipped, seeking escape from the startled blue eyes, only to freeze midway in its path to the haven of Ianto's shoulder as he remembered the freshly bandaged bite wound. "I only just got you back and I almost lost you."

Ianto's arms slid up to cradle his skull, guiding it to rest on his chest instead, where the steady thud of a stubborn heart beneath Jack's cheek provided its own reassurance. They didn't speak, because there were no words that would help. And without words, they could both later pretend this moment hadn't happened, which perversely made it all the more precious. And so, in silent accord, they drifted into sleep.

-XXX-

Ianto woke them both by trying to bolt upright at the sound of someone moving overhead.

Jack squinted at the clock and cursed silently. They'd been asleep for four hours at the most. "Relax," he murmured, pushing himself up with reluctance. "It's just Owen."

Ianto looked at Jack in confusion as the hatch opened above them, bathing the bunker in the subdued glow of emergency lighting.

Owen's face appeared in the gap. "Sorry about the noise," he said. "I thought it'd wake you if I put the lights on, but I fell over some crap Jack's left lying about instead."

It was more of an apology than Owen usually offered, so Jack didn't let fly with the barrage of insults lining up on the tip of his tongue.

Jack moved aside with poor grace as Owen shuffled down the ladder and approached Ianto. "I was just going to look in on you," the medic announced. "But since you're awake…" The bedside lamp clicked on.

Ianto was quite glad that Owen had left the cannula in, after all. He wasn't usually scared of needles, but he'd had enough of playing pincushion tonight, so it was a relief that Owen didn't need to stick him with anything in order to take blood samples. Vial after vial filled, and Ianto couldn't help wondering why Owen had pumped him full of blood only to draw it out again.

Owen leaned back with a grunt, the customary sound of satisfaction made by grumpy GPs the world over. "Seems to be clotting at nearly the normal rate," he informed Ianto. "I'm debating whether to give you another transfusion. You might not need it. The red cell count from the last batch wasn't as bad as I'd expected." He tapped a vial thoughtfully. "I'll test this and be right back," he decided. "Blood or saline, either way you need more fluid in you."

"Didn't you go home?" Ianto asked curiously.

"Been napping on the sofa," Owen answered. His eyes travelled to Jack, who was examining the floor quite intently. "Didn't Jack tell you?"

Jack shrugged. "He was tired," he offered, going for virtue.

Owen shook his head at Jack then turned to Ianto. "Try not to go back to sleep just yet," he suggested. "I'll only have to wake you up to connect the drip, and I'd rather you get some solid sleep than naps." He glanced pointedly at Jack. "Get him to talk to you or something."

Ianto worked himself up into a sitting position, his back propped against the bed-head. Jack slumped onto the edge of the bed, hands hanging between his spread knees, quite the picture of dejection.

It might have worked if Ianto wasn't experiencing the beginnings of panic. He could think of quite a few matters that Owen would be only too happy to palm off onto Jack – and none of them were good.

"What exactly are you supposed to be talking to me about?" Ianto demanded. "And why is Owen here instead of out on the pull, or home asleep?"

Jack smiled winningly and pulled Ianto back into an embrace, seeking distraction, or possibly escape, but he'd made the tactical error of leaving Ianto's mouth free to continue firing questions at him. "Am I….is it worse than he's told me? Is….is that why you're being so….." Ianto paused, searching for the right word and settling for the wrong one because they didn't use terms like _tender _or _loving_. "So nice?" he finished lamely.

Jack groaned, ceasing his pursuit and flopping gently down, his head once more pillowed on Ianto's chest. "As opposed to being the self-centered shit I usually am?" he asked, tilting his head sideways and drawing on a pout honed to perfection by centuries of practice.

Ianto shrugged, turning his own face slightly away to hide the smile he couldn't restrain. "Just because you don't broadcast your feelings to the general public doesn't mean you don't have any," he offered in reparation, which was insightful enough to render Jack silent.

"But you have to admit it's fairly rare for you to show them," Ianto continued briskly. "And if you think you've deflected me from finding out why Owen's still here, you're mistaken."

The tone was light, almost teasing, but there was enough of an undertone of fear to convince Jack he'd have to explain after all. He sighed heavily.

"Owen's here for me," he admitted. "Not because I didn't heal properly or anything like that," he added hastily, as the pectorals beneath his cheek twitched back into tension. "Just because he….I…."

Ianto waited, with an almost tangible air of patience. Jack propped his chin on Ianto's chest, looking up into his face but unable to quite meet his eyes. "Because he didn't trust me not to fall to pieces if anything went wrong with you. And….and I don't blame him. After the way I…I couldn't…I didn't...bloody hell I was useless out there tonight, wasn't I?"

There was a wrinkle on the sheet, Jack noted. His fingers rubbed over it, trying to smooth it out, while he waited for what felt increasingly like a verdict.

And of course Owen chose that moment to clamber down the ladder again.

"It's all good," the doctor announced with satisfaction. "Red cell count nearly back to normal. I'll just pump some more fluids into you then I'll leave you in peace until morning."

Ianto sighed in relief as Owen slid the cannula out of the back of his hand. With the physical reminders of his ordeal gone, he might be able to make a start on the mental ones.

"That's done, then," Owen announced. "You might feel a bit breathless if you do anything strenuous, so don't." He paused, waiting for the innuendo from one and the eye roll from one the other and grinning widely when he received silence instead.

"Giving him hell, are you?" he asked Ianto, with unusual levels of approval. "Good man. Make sure you get him sorted by the next mission. Before he's got the rest of us as rattled as he is." Jack glared. Owen merely shook his head. "Tonight was frigging woeful all around, and I'm not excusing myself, by the way. Should've gotten to you quicker." He patted Ianto's shoulder, an action too far removed from Owen's usual bedside manner to be reassuring. "Mind, you did pretty well on your own," he continued, brightening. "Didn't even leave anything for me to autopsy."

Ianto frowned. "I only stunned it," he protested.

"You fried it," Owen assured him with a quite unwholesome enthusiasm. "To a crisp, actually. It was crumbling in the wind by the time we got you into the SUV." At which he clambered up the ladder, undaunted by the glare Jack sent after him. "You did, good, Ianto, mate," Owen called, just before the hatch closed behind him. "And don't let him tell you any different."

"I wasn't going to suggest otherwise," Jack grumbled, climbing back onto the bed.

Ianto smiled faintly. "But I didn't mean to kill it," he protested. The very thought of the huge insectoid made Ianto's skin creep, but he still hated the idea that he'd been responsible for its death. "After all," he continued plaintively. "Stun guns aren't meant to double as Bug Zappers."

Jack felt something twist painfully inside him. Ianto really was too good for all this. He'd suffer more from guilt at killing another being than from the injuries that very being had inflicted on him.

"You tried to give it a chance," Jack said firmly. "Well, you made _me _give it a chance, which amounts to the same thing. "

Ianto relaxed, sagging into the arms that opened to receive him. It was nice not having to explain. Owen might laugh at him for being a 'wimp,' or variations thereof, but Jack understood his reluctance to kill, and mostly approved of it.

"A chance it used to have another go at you." Jack continued firmly. "So it was self-defense, OK?"

"OK," Ianto agreed. He considered that a moment. "So you _do_ believe I can defend myself?" he asked carefully.

Jack bit his lip, well aware of the corner Ianto was about to back him into.

"I do," he agreed, reluctance evident.

"Enough to trust in that, next time?"

Jack sighed. "It's not trust that's the issue here," he protested. "I was _scared_ for you, Ianto. We all were."

Ianto shook his head stubbornly. "_They_ were scared," he said. "Tosh and Gwen – even Owen, maybe. They were scared I'd be hurt, or worse, but it didn't stop them doing what they had to. But you…." He paused, looking at Jack with a mixture of frustration and affection. "You were watching me when you should have been watching _it_ – and that, Jack, is why everything was out just that crucial second or so. The others were waiting to follow your lead, and it wasn't there."

Jack wanted to protest, but there was too much truth in the accusation to deny it, especially to Ianto. "Yeah, maybe," he agreed.

"Because….because of me?"

There was something about the way Ianto said that very last word which made it more a question than an accusation. And it hurt. "Do you really find it that hard to believe I'm scared of losing you?" Jack asked quietly. "Because…'cause I am. Scared enough that I'd keep you in the Hub if I could."

Ianto opened his mouth to argue, but Jack continued before he could get a word out.

"I know damned well that you won't do it. I know we need you out there. I know keeping you out of the field would increase the danger for the rest of them." He paused, but what the hell, they'd already agreed that soppy was mandatory tonight. "But somehow none of that matters, as long as it keeps you safe."

Owen had left the light on, so there was nothing to hide the blush, and it was good to see some color in Ianto's cheeks, whatever the reason.

"And _I _know I should be giving you a bollocking for even thinking it," Ianto admitted, "But I'm…." The blush intensified. "I'm kind of glad."

"Well, then," Jack said, feeling that he might actually be gaining some ground here. "Given that, you can't seriously expect me to watch you go into danger and not bat an eyelid, can you?"

Ianto chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. "I suppose not," he agreed.

Jack couldn't restrain the tiny surge of hope. Maybe Ianto really would agree to stay in the dubious safety of the Hub.

"So it's probably better if you don't watch me in future," Ianto continued. "At least, no more than you do for the others. Just give me the orders and do your.." He waved a hand expressively. "Leader thing, and trust me to take care of myself."

Jack stared at his lover in disbelief, trying to detect the twitch which would reveal this as one of Ianto's subtle attempts at humor, and finding none.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Next time you put your damned fine neck in a noose, I'll look the other way – quite literally. Satisfied?"

Ianto nodded seriously. "Far more professional that way, don't you think?" He nodded again, firmly in agreement with himself. "There'll be less chance of either of us getting distracted from the mission."

Jack would have thrown up his arms in surrender, except they were still around Ianto.

"You'd better not go weird on me after for not giving a damn," he warned. "I'll probably get enough of that from the girls."

"I won't," Ianto promised. And having extracted the concession he wanted, there was no keeping the yawns back anymore.

Jack reached across to douse the bedside lamp then flopped back down onto the pillows, taking Ianto with him. "Owen's going to gut me for keeping you awake," he accused.

Ianto sniffed as settled more comfortably into Jack's arms. "He's the one who woke me up," he pointed out.

They lay in silence for a few comfortable moments, listening to the other breathe.

"Ianto?"

"Hmmmm?"

"This new regime of yours….When I.….if I….y'know. You'll still be there when I come back, right?"

Ianto yawned again. "I suppose so," he agreed gravely. "As long as it doesn't impede the mission."

"Ianto!"

Ianto chuckled in the dark, a soft, sleepy sound of contentment. "I'll always be there for you, Jack," he said softly. "For as long as I'm able. Or as long as you want me there. Whichever comes first."

Jack tightened his hold on the man in his arms. He couldn't imagine ever _not_ wanting Ianto there when he gasped his way into life, but the events of this very night served as a painful reminder of how easily that comfort could be torn away.

Jack waited until Ianto's body relaxed into slumber before allowing the lids to shut over his freshly damp eyes, and his arms stayed locked around his lover even in the depths of his own sleep.

-XXX-

_Epilogue_

Weeks later, Jack didn't watch as Ianto worked his way free of the ropes around his wrists. He forced himself not to react when a gun pressed against Ianto's temple, and choked back the cry bubbling in his throat when the trigger clicked.

Ianto, for his part, disarmed the thugs, tasered them into temporary oblivion, emerged relatively unscathed, and didn't go weird on Jack afterwards for not giving a damn.

And it wasn't cold and lonely in the bunker, regardless of what anyone else thought.

* * *

><p><em>Hope you enjoyed. Apologies to those of you who were hoping the vampiric bite would give Ianto immortality, but I couldn't make that work with an overgrown bug doing the biting!<br>Thank you all for reading, especially those who took the time to review._

_Happy New Year to you all._


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